


What Money Can Buy

by moonbehindmountain



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Final Fantasy VII - Freeform, Final Fantasy VII Remake, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mako Poisoning (Compilation of FFVII), Shinra, Shinra Company, Tseng - Freeform, Turk, Turks - Freeform, final fantasy 7 - Freeform, i made up some dude, rufus as a karen, tseng x rufus, tsengru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbehindmountain/pseuds/moonbehindmountain
Summary: Rufus Shinra is tired of being pent up at Shinra headquarters. It's risky, but tonight, with his bodyguard Tseng, he ventures out.
Relationships: Reno/Rufus Shinra/Tseng, Rufus Shinra & Tseng, Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story features Evan Townshend, but I took a loooot of liberties with his character, including the non-canon liberty to assume that Rufus knows Evan (and that he is his half-brother) before Meteorfall. I just wanted to explore their dynamic and maybe fantasize a bit about Evan's life before The Kids Are Alright. His and Rufus' brotherly relationship seems interesting to me, hope it does to you too~
> 
> Also, I made up a character named Genus. He's not canon.

Flipping idly through the menu, a red leather bound book with a single gold insignia indicating the restaurant’s infamous emblem, Rufus Shinra let out a long sigh. The private room had been cleared, tables set aside immediately upon notice of his arrival, the chef greeting him tableside with a bow. She anxiously wrung her hands as Rufus swiped forward a page, back a page, forward a page. She knows one lackluster review from the prince of Shinra Electric Power Company is sure to knock down one of her hard-earned Cetra Stars, impacting business.

“If there’s anything not to your liking, sir, just let me know. My team and I are happy to take any off-menu requests.” 

“Your filet mignon,” the words wrapped around his tongue slowly, tinted with irritation. “Last time I got it, it was dry. Dry as a Corel Prison yard. Flavor was lacking too. Might as well have been eating a roasted chocobo drumstick. Not sure what you consider good food around here, but _that_ sure wasn’t it,” he narrows his eyes and flips back to the drink menu. “Hmm.” 

Tseng, his attending bodyguard for the night, looked tableside, lips pressed together stoically. He observed the poor woman’s jaw clenching and unclenching as she anticipated the order. Her pride’s been stung and Tseng expertly can sense her energy, the bridled anxiety teetering on instability, but not a threat in the presence of Rufus’ inherent authority. 

Tseng’s already closed his menu, his gloved hand resting on the cover. It takes every ounce of willpower in him to not roll his eyes as they both wait at least another three minutes for him to make a decision.

“M-might I recommend starting with an appetizer, sir? Our maki rolls are a crowd favorite. We have an award-winning sake, made in house using a variation of koji that gives it a distinct flavor upon fermentation,” the chef wavers.

“Sure, whatever,” Rufus snaps the menu shut and tosses it carelessly across the dining table. “Not that crowd favorite really means anything, just another tactic to get people to buy shit. I guess I’ll have to try the filet mignon again since everything else looks utterly unappetizing. And try to get someone who knows what they’re doing behind the grill this time, got it, sweetheart? I want it practically still mooing or else I’m sending it back.” 

Tseng watches as the chef gathers the menus in her arms.

“Of course, sir,” she smiles crookedly.

“Thank you,” Tseng says quietly to her as she bows shortly, hastily making her leave to the kitchen through the cloth noren. 

Rufus sighs again, loosening his navy blue silk tie and unbuttoning the top button of his black button-down shirt. 

“How hard is it to cook a steak well?” he says loudly, scoffing. “It’s just a piece of meat for God’s sakes. Little salt, little pepper. Grill it, done.” 

Tseng, now with it just being the two of them, openly rolls his eyes, a grunt of annoyance escaping his nostrils as he unfolds a napkin carefully onto his lap. 

Rufus, upon seeing the act of indignation, bolsters his posture defensively, following Tseng’s lead and opening the napkin in a huffed snap. Cutlery clanks onto the table.

“What?” 

“You _are_ the one who requested to come here, sir.” 

“Well, yes. But only because there’s nowhere else to go.”

That was true. They had to stay close to corporate headquarters. Rufus’d caught wind of the rumors despite the Turks efforts to keep information away from him, nonchalantly changing the subject whenever Rufus had approached them about it. But, Tseng knew that these weren’t mere rumors. These were terrorist machinations, coming to full fruition, with the intention to actively overthrow order. He and the Turks were commanded by their employer to injure these dissidents, but not kill them. 

Once under arrest, they had no trial, no means to make their case. Only a “chance” to regain their “honor” under the watchful eye of Hojo, who justified experimenting on them by asserting that he could shape these objectors into useful tools that would assist in Shinra’s goals. Tseng tried to turn a blind eye to things he couldn’t control, no matter how hard his heart clamored against some of the things he’d seen and done. He’d learned to keep his emotions buried deep, kept in line with strict discipline, as had all the Turks.

His coworkers pegged Rufus as a loose cannon and kept their distance best they could. But Tseng saw him differently. He was spoiled, sure, and impatient. But not in a hot-headed kind of way. It was an icy cold sliding kind of an influence, one that could crawl under your skin without you realizing it. Tseng also knew that Rufus, in a twisted way, respected these radicals; they knew how to manipulate Shinra into a state of fear. He wanted to learn from them. Rufus was no stranger to threats. He'd in fact been resistant to the idea of a bodyguard accompanying him, fully capable of protecting himself with the aid of his shotgun, loaded chock-full with materia and powerful ammunition. But after what had happened with Avalanche and his house arrest, the company no longer trusted him to be alone. 

The more Tseng worked with Rufus, the more he got to know him. And understand. That beneath his cold and demanding exterior, he wanted to understand fear because he was afraid himself. Afraid and alone. When Tseng realized months before that they were probably more alike than different, it shook him. Tseng requested to guard him time and again as something about Rufus roused a certain protective instinct that was different than one he’d felt before. It was deeper, though he’d never be one to admit that to anyone, much less himself. Rufus was just a liability

Tseng knew he knew. That being among the public like this was practically a death wish. In a way, it was almost as if Rufus was welcoming it. Announcing his arrival, the buzz of it reached the other diners and passersby as they drove in the long, black vehicle on the way over. Breaking news was that Rufus Shinra had descended his throne in the clouds to be among them in the upper sector. Cameras clicked in bushes nearby and when Tseng muscled his way past Rufus, gun in hand at his thigh ready to apprehend the journalists, Rufus had stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. _Let them go,_ he’d smiled, wrapping his arm around Tseng’s shoulder and patting it softly.

“Ah, here it comes!” Rufus smirked, breaking the silence that they’d sat in for several minutes.

Tseng, facing the noren, watched as a waiter emerged and placed a plate of the maki rolls in front of them, a beautiful assortment of fresh fish, beads of white rice, shining dark nori, and a dab of wasabi placed methodically on a artisanal platter. Tseng attempted to look inconspicuously into the main dining room, scanning for newcomers. The hall murmured with diners, clinks of silverware, and background jazz music. 

The waiter set down a decanter of sake and two clay cups. He began pouring the beverage in a gentle stream, his eyes downcast. The cup filled and Rufus took it between his fingers, holding it up to the light, glancing smugly at Tseng. It was then Tseng knew. Rufus had confirmed it with his glance. He’d suspected this would be a possibility from the time they’d stepped out of the vehicle and into the restaurant. He slipped his fingers over his gun, the napkin in his lap falling to the floor. Rufus took a sip of the drink and as he did so, the waiter’s firm mouth curled into the slightest hint of a smile.

“If you were going to attempt to poison me, at least try to make it a challenge. They make antidotes for anything these days. If you can afford them, that is.” Rufus pulled a metal flask from his pocket and took a swig, ridding himself swiftly of the toxin. He screwed on the cap with a noisy metallic scrape and then took a bite of food, maki roll pressed between his chopsticks.

“Hm, I can see why this dish was worthy of a Cetra Star. Compliments to the chef.” 

The waiter winced, as if this was something he’d been told to expect, and clumsily reached back for a weapon, his teeth grit. Tseng leapt up and fired two fixed shots, one to the thigh and one to the hand. The man cried out and buckled to the floor, cradling his wounds.The noise of the gunshots caused calamity to break out in the main dining hall. Tseng knew there would be more of them.

“Get in here!” The man spat out as Tseng restrained him. His feet scrambled and slipped on his blood against the wooden polished floor. The man hollered noisily out of pain and panic, attempting to alert the other assassins of Rufus’ location. 

“God, that’s annoying,” Rufus said calmly, wiping his fingers one by one on a napkin then standing to his feet. He gestured to Tseng to pass him one of his handguns, holstered in Tseng’s chest strap. Tseng did one-handedly, other hand wrapped around his own weapon pointed at the room’s entrance. Rufus turned the safety off with a click. He approached the man, who’s bewildered, tear-filled eyes looked up at him. He’d probably fantasized about this day, the day he’d have a hand in exacting his revenge against Shinra and all they’d taken from him. But, reality was never quite what one pictured it to be. Rufus stood looming over him, the man squeezing his eyes shut, sure of his fate. Rufus surprised him by casting Cura. The man’s wounds began closing up gradually, staving the flow of blood. He breathed out in a sharp breath, relieved. 

“Don’t worry,” Rufus pulled him up by the collar and tossed him to the corner of the room, the man impotent against Tseng’s restraints. “I don’t want to kill you. But if you keep that clamoring up, I will. It gets on my nerves.” 

He saw them enter the restaurant, guns and knives brandished, shooting and swiping recklessly. Tseng pinned his body against the wall of the private room’s entrance. Plates of maki rolls and jugs of sake tumbled to the ground, plates shattering and bullet holes burrowing with a thud into the restaurant's walls. People scrambled to make their escape as the group demanded for Rufus. Tseng clicked his tongue at the sloppy carelessness of their work. For people who claimed to care so much about the value of organic life, they sure didn’t seem to think twice about endangering the innocent lives of the people within the restaurant. Perhaps in their eyes, they were simply guilty by association, living comfortably under what Shinra could supply them with. 

Tseng, with an outstretched hand, cast Stop, the weapons clattering to the ground as the assailants froze, unable to move. Tseng felt the internal impact of the large amount of magic the materia tapped from him, his chest tight at its casting. He knew he had to work quickly. One by one, Tseng restrained the members, patting down their bodies for hidden knives, swords, explosives then cautiously disarming and neutralizing what he could with his remaining magic. 

Rufus attempted to enter the dining room behind him. Tseng’s whole body sparked with adrenaline upon Rufus’ entry. He was so impatient sometimes. So needing to be involved in everything. He was completely vulnerable out here, a target of these men’s aggressions, and yet he acted as if he were invincible. Tseng had seen death an uncountable amount of times, but imagining it for Rufus somehow felt unbearable. Restraining them for his employer instead of just sending his bullet through their brains took every ounce of willpower, every dedication to duty that he had. 

“Just stay back!” Tseng barked. 

“Requesting backup,” he murmured into his earpiece to the other Turks. They all responded with tinny affirmations, Reno loudly commenting back with a snide and crass remark about Tseng’s ability to handle his own weapon. He’d requested they take a post nearby just in case something like this were to happen.

“Why? It’s not like they can-”

But Tseng had miscalculated. His time had run out in the seconds he’d wasted attempting to direct Rufus. One of them, larger in physique than the others and therefore less affected by the spell, lurched forward with a vengeful scream towards Rufus, swiping at Tseng with his hunting knife. Tseng attempted to dodge with the slide of his foot, but stumbled against a dining chair and lurched backwards, his gun firing into the ceiling. The man seized the opportunity, spotty metal glinting under the warm ambient glow of the restaurant’s lighting. 

A primitive weapon, he observed, so rudimentary. Yet still, the knife penetrated a space between his ribs, his chest, his shoulder over and over and over again. Tseng could feel the man’s breath on his face as he stabbed him, Tseng’s own blood splatting in warm droplets against his face. It smelled too, of iron and of metal, like raw meat. Tseng’s composure broke as his body instinctively reacted to this threat to his survival, and cries of pain broke between his grit teeth. His hand floppily released his weapon onto the ground. Warm blood soaked through his shirt, down his chest, and oh God, the pain. In this moment, he weakly reached his gloved hand out for his gun as he lay on the floor, one last attempt to defend himself. But his vision was spotty, his brain fogged by his body’s attempt to numb what could likely be his last breaths. He didn’t have time or capability to think of regrets or memories or lovers or friends. Just... nothing. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it, motherfucker,” Rufus seethed. He cocked his gun with a sharp click and then put to use what he’d been practicing at the firing range in the months he’d been pent up behind corporate walls. The gun sounded off in rapid succession - powerful, blasting, merciless. The large man’s body fell to the ground with a thud, taking a table toppling over him with it. The others, still stilled by Stop, could only watch as their imminent fate was demonstrated before them, Rufus pacing back and forth in front of them like a caged panther. 

Rufus had work to do. 

He cast a quick Cure spell on Tseng, just to help a bit with the pain and restore a bit of his vitality. Rufus wanted to make these men hurt before he ended them. Cure would be long enough to hold him off until the Turks got here to help. Stop subsided and the men fell down on their tangles of legs, pleading for their lives, scrambling like ants under a rock.

“I’m not that kind of man, you see,” his words were hot, brimming with the cold, deadly ice, the lightning-in-wait, that could only be characterized by Rufus Shinra. “I wanted to learn from you. I wanted to understand where you were coming from, what you were doing and how you were doing it. But, it looks like today you’ve decided to give up that opportunity. The moment you hurt one of mine, you hurt me. So in a way, I guess you’ve succeeded in your operation. Make sure to tell yourselves that before you swallow my bullets.” 

He pressed the muzzle of his handgun to the back of one of the men’s heads and clicked back the hammer. The man trembled and Rufus cut off his pleading with an unhesitantly sure pull of his trigger.

He wouldn’t let anyone do this to Shinra. 

No...no, that wasn’t it at all. He wouldn’t let anyone do this to _him._

The other one was exterminated just as quickly. He knew there was one more in waiting, the man who’d served him the poison. But he’d leave him to the Turks. He only needed one for interrogation anyway. A soft moaning murmured in the dark, the wreckage, the blood. 

Tseng. Rufus’ chest clenched at the sight of Tseng curled up and bleeding out on the restaurant floor. He staved his nausea and in the emptiness that hollowed in his chest, anger and agony bubbled volcanically. He’d grown to enjoy his company in the time they’d spent together. It had been years they’d known one another. Distant at first, Tseng then became someone Rufus found himself thinking of contacting on lonely nights, a man he respected for his dedication, drive and competence. Like him, he’d made life-threatening decisions to align with his most inner self. The thought of losing this kinship had Rufus’ heart aching. They were meant to do things for Shinra together. Not like this. Not like _this_. 

He rushed to Tseng’s side, stripping Tseng of his blazer, unlatching and tossing aside his gloves, and slipping off his tie in an attempt to make him more comfortable. Tseng let out a sob of pain as he did so, clenching his teeth which were coated in blood. He cast another spell, Curaga, the light of its magic glowing green between them, but it could only do so much. His breathing was ragged, a lung was obviously injured in some way and he needed more help than he could offer, quickly. He could hear the others scrambling for help over Tseng’s headset, aware of the situation and the urgency.

“God, I’m so useless,” Rufus hissed to himself. 

Usually it was Tseng taking care of him, this role reversal felt odd, but this could have been him, lying here in a mess of his own blood, if it hadn’t been for his bodyguard laying his life down. 

_For duty,_ his thoughts murmured, _Not for you._ Rufus attempted to shake that thought away and just focus on where he was. That didn’t matter right now.

Tseng, with the arm that he could move, reached up for Rufus with fingers curled.

“What? What can I do for you?” Rufus pleaded, grimacing, tears now streaming down his face. His next words came out tumbling and unbridled and high-pitched, like a child throwing a tantrum. “I killed them. I don’t care what they say about saving them for whatever reasons they have. I just killed them. I killed them because of what they did to you.” Rufus cried, heaving pain-filled sobs, tears falling on Tseng’s forehead, streaking down his cheeks. 

Tseng’s breathing grew watery and he swallowed. He grazed his hand against Rufus’ face, his fingers cold from lack of adequate circulation. His fingers moved from Rufus’ cheek to his chin to his lips. The touch was intimate in a way that left Rufus breathless. What was he trying to tell him? 

The Turks and a small group of SOLDIERs burst onto the scene, taking in what had happened in a quick surveillance. Paramedics rushed to Tseng’s side, doing what they could professionally to keep him alive, get him to safety. Rude restrained Rufus, who uncharacteristically lashed out and screamed and fought against him, attempting to assure that Tseng was being taken care of in a way that didn’t involve mako. Rufus knew what became of those injured on the job. He alone would have to keep a watchful eye over him to prevent the claws of Hojo from slithering their way underneath Tseng’s skin. Nobody else would care. To see Tseng’s deep red eyes tinged with glittering green, that was a horror Rufus wasn’t ready to bear.

“Don’t just leave him!” Rufus shrieked to Reno as he gestured to Tseng. Reno stood with mouth parted, his eyes wide. It was obvious he wasn’t sure what to do, torn between Shinra’s orders and the unbridled emotion Rufus was expressing. Reno kneeled at Tseng’s side but looked up at Rufus.

“Not sure what else you want me to do, man. They’re gonna take him away.” 

“Useless,” Rufus spat. Rude did what he could to impede him, binding his hands behind his back as he writhed, speaking quietly to him that,

“We have orders to secure you at corporate headquarters, sir. Tseng’s fate isn’t up to us.” 

The paramedics strapped Tseng to the spinal board, transferring him to a stretcher, carrying him away to the ambulance waiting outside. Rufus saw only a glimpse of his long, thin hair trailing over the side of the stretcher as they packed him away. 

Rufus hung limp against Rude as the vehicle departed, sirens blaring. This was how it always was for him, watching, not knowing, formulating alone within himself. It was convenient for them, how he’d stay tucked away quietly and neatly, an untouchable idol for people like his father to tote around. Nothing was ever what he truly wanted. 

He should have just said it. Said it then, said it months ago to him. Now, he wasn’t even sure if he’d get the chance. To touch his skin as a lover would, to call him on the job just to hear his voice, to spend time with him without a word of their work between them.

Again, he’d just have to wait. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“It’s never been done. Hard pressed to find the dude who has something like that, Rufus,” the voice crackled through the cell phone. “But..it's not impossible.”

Tseng mumbled incoherently from Rufus’ bedroom, a muffled sound of agitation and pain. Rufus paced the hallway of his apartment, bare feet cold against the hardwood, and ran a bit of his hair between his fingers. 

“Well, how much time would you need?” 

The question came out as more of a desperate plea than a request. 

“I-I dunno, a day maybe? The leads I have are all kind of standoffish. I’d probably have to tell him who it was for.”

“I don’t care,” Rufus breathed, composing himself. “Tell him I’ll pay whatever he wants for it.”

“Look, I might be a detective but I’m not one to ask a man any unwarranted questions. But...ya know, it’s not like it's everyday that my long lost rich-boy stepbrother rings me up. And especially not in a panic,” he paused, and lowered his voice, a whisper in Rufus’ ear. 

“Is it the President? Did someone finally get to him?” 

“No...”  _ God, everything always had to be about that bastard, didn’t it.  _ “No-just, just call me when you’re ready. I’ll take the back way out and meet you down there.” 

“No helicopters this time?” The voice on the other line was tinted with a smug sarcasm. 

Rufus replied bluntly. “They’ll track me if I leave. I can’t be out long.” 

“Well, well, you’ve got yourself in deep on this one. And so have I as a matter of fact. Better be worth my time.” 

“It will be. Just, hurry.” 

Rufus hung up with the press of his thumb. 

He inhaled deeply, his breath shaking. His nerves were wrecked. He hated this feeling of loss of control, more than anything.  _ Keep your cool, _ he assured himself,  _ you made the call. You’ve done all you can.  _

All he could really do now was try to keep Tseng comfortable and flush what he could of the excess mako surging through his veins until Evan called him back. He pushed the bedroom door open gently, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to see what the mako was doing to him.

The hallway light casting across Tseng’s body, twisted up in Rufus’ sheets, blood streaked across them where his knife wounds had bled through the bandaging. His inner forearm was purple-blue, swollen and oozing blood and some sort of clearish-green liquid where he’d had the intravenous catheter dispensing Mako injected. Tseng’s whole body shuddered, shivering with chattering teeth. It was like he was freezing. His hair was plastered to his forehead. He was drenched in sweat and his breaths came in short, shallow pants. Rufus pressed his hand to his mouth in an attempt to stave his emotion. He knelt by the bed and leaned in, brushing long strands of hair off of Tseng’s lips.

“Can you hear me?” he whispered. 

Tseng swallowed with cracked lips parted. The very act of swallowing seemed to cause him pain, a soft moan escaping from him. 

His eyes fluttered weakly open. Tiny sparks of mako green were flecked in his irises amidst the dark red. They glowed, firefly-like, in the darkness of the bedroom. Rufus’ stomach clenched. This was a nightmare. A day might be too long. He might be too late. 

“I-” Tseng said, his words feeble.

He breathed the short panting breaths again. 

“I can’t remember. I-” his eyes moved downward, brow narrowed in pain and confusion at his own body and his surroundings. Something in his eyes looked animalistic and wide, wild with the base need for survival. 

“You’re safe,” Rufus said cooly, not even sure if the words were true. He took Tseng’s fingers to his lips. They were clammy with perspiration. “I won’t let them take you away from me again.” 

Tseng’s hand relaxed in Rufus’, going limp as he closed his eyes again. Rufus knew objectively that the day might someday come. That Tseng would end up hospitalized, injured, for the sake of defending Shinra. But, the thought had never been this personal before. Or this real. There’d been a distance between them before, a rift of executive and subjugate. Things had changed. Time had twisted, morphed them and their dynamic. Nothing was hierarchical or directional anymore. Love could be powerful and terrifying in that way. And he’d fallen fully in love with this man; this was someone who was competent, respectful, composed, refined. Rufus knew that if he lost him to this terrible influence of this poison that Tseng would never be the same. And Rufus himself would revert to a mere shell of a man, only to be filled with cold, bitter wrath and the destructive competence of metal bullets. Never goal-driven. Never able to love. Just a machine. 

_ My fault,  _ something in his mind whispered to him,  _ This is my fault.  _

“No,” Tseng whispered in the dark, his hand trembling weakly and raising up to Rufus’ cheek. Rufus’ eyes went wide, mouth parted, at the touch. Something about the tenderness of it triggered one of the most powerful emotions he’d ever felt, as if he’d been transported to the last place he’d felt affection...a dim place he couldn’t quite remember. His chest was so tight that it hurt. “Don’t blame yourself, sir. Just let this happen, please. We-” he swallowed, his eyes surging green, “We can’t avoid it.” 

“We can. I’m working on it now. Evan’s searching for the antidote materia. Something available underground. I’m fixing it.” 

“Sir,” Tseng said softly, his chest heaving. “The underground. It’s dangerous. Y-you may need to just accept this.”

“You think I don’t know that,” Rufus whispered, begging, grabbing hard at Tseng’s hand. “Please.”

Suddenly, Tseng’s body tensed and a grunt of pain hissed between his teeth. Rufus released his hand as the Mako poisoning took its hold again, sobs of pain releasing against Rufus’ pillow. 

Rufus turned his back, unable to watch, gritting his teeth. He got his cell phone out and dialed Evan’s number again. 

“What is it?” Evan answered voice low. Someone in the background yelled for help, and for the police. “I was in the middle of tracking the lead.” 

“Where are you? I’m coming to assist.” 

“Now?  _ Hey! If you struggle it’s just gonna be harder on you. Don’t resist!  _ Sorry, like I said, I’m kind of in the middle of something. If you’re sure you could take it, come on down. Guess I can’t stop you. I’ll send you my location. I think this may be easier than I anticipated, these Upper Plate guys are easy as hell to break.” 

“I’ll bring the gil.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid on the way over.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The entire apartment was dark blue in the still of the night as Rufus closed the door with a click. This was an upper plate apartment, walls lined with shelves of expensive decorative vases, plates, trophies and an employee of the month plaque. Rufus scoffed at a framed picture hanging in the hallway. It was of a suited middle-aged man shaking hands with his father, grinning toothily as if he’d won over the world. The lead was a Shinra subjugate, benefitting grossly from the meager work he probably shelled himself in a cubicle for day after day. Rufus hated men like these. Men without honor. Men without goals. They were so easily controlled by fear. 

He opened the bedroom door to see the man restrained by Evan, panting through his nose at the gag in his mouth. His eyes went wide at the sight of Rufus. He seemed to attempt to beg for a chance at being released, tears rolling down his face. Rufus rolled his eyes. 

“He’s a materia affect addict,” Evan whispered in his ear, his gun pointed at the man, “He’s already told me that much, I’m just trying to find his dealer.” 

“Quick work,” Rufus remarked with a smirk. “Didn’t take you for someone who was actually competent.” 

Rufus tossed him a stack of gil and Evan caught it with his free hand, then pocketed it. Evan looked Rufus once over. He’d changed clothes, disguised in a SOLDIER uniform.

“They let you out like that, huh?” 

Rufus icily glanced at him, then narrowed his eyes at their hostage. 

“I did what I had to.” 

Evan wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but kept to the job. 

“Plus, I look a hundred times better in this than those 3rd Class thugs.” Rufus smiled, and tugged a dagger from a casing on his outer left thigh. It glinted in the low light that emitted from the man’s bedside table. His eyes gleamed with panic as Rufus approached him. 

“Do you want to play, or do you want to live? I don’t have time to mess around,” Rufus said, still smiling, and then cut the man’s gag. 

The man coughed and spit for longer than was necessary.

“I-I don’t know what you want from me! I thought you were Shinra! What do you want!?” 

Rufus thought of Tseng laying alone in his bed, struggling for his humanity. Every second he stayed here was another second lost to the poisoning. He honed in on the man, dagger pointed at his throat, elbow raised in the pose of a killer. 

“We don’t have time, I said.” His teeth were grit in cold, impatient anger.

“We need to know your dealer,” Evan interrupted. “Where is he?” 

“Genus? That’s all you want to know?” The man wiped his perspiration with his shoulder.

“I already know his name,” Evan said, waving his gun, “We need to know where he is.”

“I-I have his address,” the man panted. “It’s in my phone on the dining room table.” 

Rufus gestured to Evan to go retrieve it, dagger still pointed.

“What kind of lowlife taints the name of Shinra with behavior like yours,” Rufus spat at the man. “Materia affect is just an excuse to make the weak feel stronger than they actually are. An easy way out. You’re a disgrace.” 

The man looked Rufus over, a sudden look of equal disgust on his face.

“As if you’re any better. Rufus Shinra. A traitor to his own name. You can’t do anything without the authority of your father.” 

Rufus’ stomach clenched with embarrassment and vexation. A feeling like ice ran through his veins and he was overwhelmed with the urge to injure, to kill. But no, he still needed him. Instead, he laughed, shortly. 

“Just wait. Men like you will be the first to go.” 

“I’ve got it,” Evan said from the other room. 

“How can you be sure I won’t say anything,” the man smiled. “You’d be taken away again. Exiled.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Rufus said, pulling the man by his greying hair. Between his fingers, he took the man's slippery tongue. The dagger grazed against his teeth with the noise of something metal against something hard. And then, with the twitch of his wrist, the man’s tongue was out. 

Rufus wiped the saliva off his fingers against his chest, then sheathed the blade. The man writhed and cried in pain on the ground, unable to speak, blood red and black everywhere. 

Evan looked on with eyes of suppressed horror. He was reminded then, what coldness, what lack of remorse, his lineage was really capable of.


	4. Chapter 4

Rufus dragged the motorcycle he’d taken into a side alley beside the warehouse. Rufus knew what was inside this building: crates filled with metal and materials ready to be shipped off to weaponry factories. These places weren’t heavily guarded usually, but that wasn’t a guarantee that there wasn’t at least one SOLDIER on watch. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing they were there. He removed the SOLDIER helmet and checked in with Evan, who was texting Genus on some type of burner phone. 

“How’d you get him to trust you?” Rufus inquired.

“Let’s just say I know the ropes. And he’s a man of business. That’s something I think you could understand. We have money, he has goods. It’s pretty simple. If I’m being honest I’m more worried about you. How long before they notice you’re not tucked in to your little princely bed by midnight, Cinderella?” 

Rufus clicked a button on the side of his cell phone. It was 2:34 in the morning. Three hours had elapsed. He didn’t know exactly how long it took for Jenova cells to take full hold of their hosts. His heart clawed at his throat in waves of anxiety at that thought. But he just had to keep pressing forward. 

He was still a bit incredulous at the fact that Evan had agreed to help him, a suspicion that kept his handgun close to his hip. If he had to, he’d use it. But that he didn’t mean he wanted to. Evan was proving to be a quick worker, rather fearless in the face of the underground, level headed with a weapon. He’d make a good accomplice, maybe even a Turk. 

“He’s inside,” Evan said, zipping up his windbreaker and snapping shut the phone. 

Rufus put his hand on his shoulder, a gesture Evan recoiled slightly at.

“You know, Evan, you should start thinking of doing this private investigation service full time. Shinra would probably be happy to offer you a position. Think of it as a family reunion.” 

Evan scoffed and tucked a bit of his blonde hair behind his ear, his eyes looking out for their man. “And work for our bloated bastard of a father? Yeah, no thanks. This is just a part-time thing for me. While you both have been fucking models and counting cash up in Shinra mansion, I’ve been trying to scrape anything I can to just get by out here.” 

“That could all change,” Rufus said. There was a dark tone in his voice that reminded Evan of how he’d threatened that materia affect earlier. 

“Still a no from me,” Evan asserted. He wouldn’t admit that a life in the lap of luxury did pique his interest, but the fact was that Rufus terrified him. Even if they were related by blood, the only family he really knew, Evan still was reserved by his own resentments about what Rufus had and what he didn’t. 

“Suit yourself,” Rufus smirked. “But you know, I think we’re more similar that you’d like to admit.” 

“It’s just tonight, and then we’re through,” Evan spat. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you have it?” 

Rufus held out his palm to Genus, who stood in the dark shadow of a doorway between two warehouses. Fluorescent lights turned on in succession, conserving energy by flicking off and then on periodically. His breath moved hot in his nostrils underneath the SOLIDER helmet. Evan hadn’t revealed Rufus’ identity to Genus and he would do all he could to keep it that way. 

Evan grit his teeth. He was used to working with the underground with a bit more polish. Men like Genus didn’t take kindly to demands. Genus wore a dark leather jacket, jet back hair slicked back, a gaudy silver ring in his lower lip. His tongue moved from cheek to cheek as if he was chewing on something. He smirked at Rufus’ gesture. 

“Do  _ you _ ?” Genus bit at his lip ring. His eyes shifted behind his shoulder every so often and he scratched at his clavicle, shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal his tattoos. His restlessness didn’t sit well with Evan. Rufus stood, still, assessing his next move.

“Give it to him,” Evan nodded. 

“Nice to see you again, Ev,” Genus smirked. “Under better circumstances this time, I’d bet.” 

Evan stayed quiet until he spoke the select words of, “You know it well as I do. How it goes out here.” 

“Didn’t think you worked with his type. Money tight this month?” Genus flicked at his fingertips. “You know, we got ways of making it easier for you. Me in particular. We got a bunch of Upper Plate thirsty old corporate horndogs who’d line up to get a piece of what you’d have to offer. Pay fat cash too. Blonde guys are harder to come by lately.”

“Enough,” Rufus said, his voice cutting. 

Rufus retrieved the envelope of gil from a front chest pocket and tossed it on the ground. 

“Take it.” 

Genus, eyes making contact with Rufus in a posture of defense, hesitantly picked it up and accounted for the amount he’d demanded. 

“Huh,” he laughed, tucking his fingers between the bills as he counted. His eyes were glossy with a hunger that Rufus well recognized. 

Greed. 

“Holy shit, maybe I should consider signing up if SOLDIERs get to make this kind of bank. But, can’t exactly put ‘works well with others’ on my Shinra cocksucking resume.” 

“The materia,” Rufus commanded. 

“Yeah, yeah, bootlicker, give me a second,” he tucked the gil in a wallet then put the wallet into his jeans. 

He retrieved a cigarette box from beneath his leather jacket and tossed it to Rufus, who caught the box in his gloved hand. 

“Have at it.” 

Inside was an orb, smaller than other materia, glowing white, shimmering like opal as it rolled around in the box. 

“How do I know it works?” Rufus’ eyes narrowed. 

“Wanna test it out for yourself?” Genus said. Rufus looked on with horror as the man opened up his leather jacket, revealing a medical looking glass vial. It glowed green against Genus’ torso.

“H-how did you get that?” Evan stuttered. 

“If there’s a demand for it, I’ll find a way. Like you said, you know how it goes out here.” He uncapped a syringe with his thumb and held the flame of his lighter against its thin needle. “Now, which one of you wants to go first?” 


	6. Chapter 6

Rufus held the hair-thin needle up to the crease of his arm. He could see the outline of the bluish vein, his skin luminescent under moonlight. His arm pulsed under the blood pressure of the tourniquet, a buckled adjustable strap that Evan had ripped off his jacket. His breath was unsteady. He had no idea if this was actually going to work, but this was the only way he could find out. 

“It’s not too late,” Evan whispered, his brow narrow with concern. “We can just go. Maybe there’s another way.” 

“No,” Rufus said firmly. “I’ll be fine. Just focus on the materia.” 

“It’ll hit you hard the first time,” Genus said, puffing out a line of smoke from his cigarette. “You’ll wanna hold your breath.” 

Rufus inhaled and plunged the sharp tip of the needle into his vein. As Genus had instructed, he injected the mako from the syringe with the base of his thumb, the liquid sliding cold and spidering as it mingled with his blood. He could feel it immediately. The funny thing was, unlike he’d imagined, it felt  _ good _ . So good, in fact, that he began laughing. Softly, giddily. He couldn’t control it. His body surged with a euphoric pleasure that left his eyes wide and brought him to his knees, his hands wrapped around his waist. He let out a moan of pleasure, as the mako seemed to grow larger and larger under his skin, worming in his body as if it were a living thing. Rufus felt as if every energy that ever was had given itself over to him, to raise him up to the highest place of being. He felt  _ alive _ . Verdant and organic and very aware of his own humanity. The world before him blurred. Everything suddenly felt very unimportant.

But, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling left him. It had peaked in its sensual gratification. The pleasure was melting now, it was almost as if it had given him a load that was now too heavy to him to bear. All of his muscles strained against it. He could feel it now. That whatever mako could offer was more than a man was meant to take. 

His mind was suddenly racing; he could see all his memories darting quickly before his eyes, the most painful ones searing behind his line of vision cyclically. He cried out as the mako felt as if it were bombing his brain, a sudden, agonizing pain over and over again. Tears streamed down his face, his eyes wide, as his body attempted to regain equilibrium from the shock, Rufus breathless and groaning through his teeth between the bouts of torment.

“I’d do it now,” Genus looked on, unbothered, flicking at this cigarette. “With all the noise he’s making, we’re bound to attract some company.” 

Evan’s face was brushed with an intense trepidation. He clutched at the materia in his palm, its energy activating as Evan felt it exchange it for his own. He cast the antidote spell, gritting his teeth. It’d been a while since he’d needed to use magic, he’d almost forgotten what it had felt like.

The white wisp, like a sparking smoke, surrounded Rufus’ body, disappearing beneath his skin. Rufus was then on all fours, his SOLDIER helmet clattering against asphalt as he cast it aside and lurched, vomiting up whatever was in his stomach for a few minutes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after finishing, his hair hanging in his half-closed eyes, and then sat up against his heels.

Evan attended him, grasping him hard on the shoulder. He didn’t have to ask. Rufus simply looked at him weakly. His eyes were the usual clear blue, no traces of glow or green. A sign of affirmation. The materia had worked. 

“Holy shit,” Genus breathed, his cigarette dropping to the floor. He took a few clumsy steps back. “Y-you’re that guy, the Shinra guy. Evan, you’re with him?!” 

Evan stood up, cocking his gun at Genus. Seeing this scumbag’s eyes round with terror and surprise was a little more gratifying than he’d like to admit.

“I’ll know if you squeal. We’ve all done our part here. Now crawl back to Sector 7 before any more trouble shows up.” 


	7. Chapter 7

An alarm blared and lights boomed to life, blasting the area with searing white light. Genus scrambled, grabbing at his gil that had fluttered to the floor. He retreated to the alleyway where he’d parked his motorbike, kicked it to life with a burst of the bike’s headlight, and roared past Evan with a storm of wind. 

“Good luck fuckers,” he yelled back as his tires skid against the asphalt. Something clattered to the ground from Genus’ bag amid his escape. Rufus recognized it. Genus had stolen mecha weaponry parts. The SOLDIERs on guard had probably just found out. 

“Hey, get up! Let’s get going!” Evan urged as Rufus weakly put a hand to his knee in an attempt to stand. 

“What, you think I’m in any condition to outrun anybody right now?” Rufus said, his face grey and his brow dotted with sweat. “Ungh!” He clasped at his arm where the mako had first made contact, his body curled over itself. 

Evan cinched his jaw, looking behind his shoulder. He could hear shouting in the distance and the barking of guard hounds. 

“Shit…” Evan swore under his breath. “Here, just,” he knelt to the ground with his back facing Rufus and gestured with a thrust of his thumb, “Just get on, I’ll drive us. Can you do that at least?” 

Rufus breathed shakily, his gaze stern and determined. He reached up for Evan’s shoulder and took hold of it. 

“Gr,” he moaned in pain through clenched teeth as he hoisted himself onto Evan’s back. 

“This is gonna cost you extra, just so you know,” Evan said, grunting under his half-brother’s weight, and then sprinting to his motorbike. He tugged the keys from his coat pocket then hiked Rufus up onto the seat. 

“Tch, to think I’d be riding sidesaddle to you. Pathetic…” Rufus said hazily.

“Alright, Cinderella would you prefer a horse-drawn carriage? Go ahead and get one yourself then. Now's not the time to pull the rich boy card.” Evan hopped on the front of the motorbike’s seat and then, in a streak of inspiration, undressed himself of his coat and tied it around his and Rufus’ waist. 

“Not that this does much, but at least it’ll try to keep you steady. Hang on as tight as you can.” 

Rufus did so hesitantly. He wasn’t as accustomed to depending on people as he was to using them. 

“Ungh, it hurts!” he moaned, his muscles aching and his head throbbing as if he’d had a week-long fever. 

“Well, get over it!” Evan retorted and kicked on the engine’s ignition. 

He dragged through the alleyway, the overheads almost blindingly bright. He let on the gas as hard as it would go. The bike narrowly missed a SOLDIER who was being tugged along by a guard hound. Rufus grabbed tighter around Evan’s waist, turning to see what had happened. The SOLDIER stumbled back, the dog snapping and barking frantically at the surprise of a sudden movement. The guard then blew a whistle, gesturing and yelling to the others. The two were approaching the main gate of the warehouse, where the entry guard SOLDIER shot at them in an attempt to damage the wheels. Rufus could see his body flinch in hesitation at the fact that Rufus was wearing a SOLDIER uniform, but he continued firing nonetheless. Rufus worried that he’d been recognized.

“Take a left at the gate, don’t go through it,” Rufus yelled over the noise of the engine and gunfire. His body felt hot with adrenaline. “We can make it through the garage.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Evan bit back, “That’s where they’ll all come from. It’s sure to be loaded with them right now.” 

“Who do you think knows this place better, you or me?” Rufus countered. “Just do it!” 

Rufus pulled his handgun from where he’d strapped it to his thigh, and with all the core and arm strength he could muster, shot at the SOLDIER in rapid succession. The man cried out, falling backward, his body bucking to the ground. 

Rufus’ hand went limp against his thigh and the gun skitted, spinning across against the pavement as it slipped from his hand. 

He swallowed vomit down as he swayed slightly, his vision spotty and his hearing dulling.

“Hey! Don’t faint, it’s hard enough to steer with the extra weight,” Evan practically screamed, “Not to mention you just blew my hearing out with that gunshot.” 

“Right,” Rufus sighed, “Right.”

“Yeah, it is right,” Evan grumbled. “We’re toast. Got your court confession ready?” 

He approached the entry to the industrial garage where a small mass of SOLDIERs were assembling and mounting bikes. 

“No, RIGHT!” Rufus lurched his body sideways in an attempt to turn the vehicle towards a rail-thin off ramp that led to a small passageway.

“Oh shit, well why didn’t you say so ugh-  _ sooner _ !” Evan jerked his arms to the right, striving to steer without toppling them both off the seat or flipping his bike. 

He braced against Rufus’ weight as he hung on, the tires squealing against the metal of the ramp. Inside the tight tunnel, lined with dashing, disorienting orange lights, it was only the sound of the motorbike against the pavement and the engine sputtering as they drove. 

“Are we gonna be followed?” Evan said frantically. “Not much room for us to go in here.” 

“No. Just keep driving, you’ll see it soon enough,” Rufus grunted. 

As the corner rounded, Evan could see it now. A circle of light.

“You’ll want to stand up if you ever want a chance at having children,” Rufus said, hovering in a squat over the seat himself. Evan attempted to brake, seeing that the opening dropped off straight down.

Before Evan had the chance to react, the bike was flying through the open air. Evan screamed as he couldn’t quite see the ground, covered in a thick fog. It took everything in his body not to release his arms in an attempt to protect himself from the fall. 

“Don’t let go!” Rufus yelled. “It’s not that far down. It will be worse if you jump now.” 

The bike made contact with the ground and then skid sideways upon impact. It rumbled, still somehow idling. Evan’s arm had slid across the dirt and was now scraped up, protecting his head and neck. But upon assessing himself, he was otherwise uninjured. He slowly made his way to standing. His coat was no longer strapped around his waist. 

“Rufus!” He called out among the fog. He had no idea where the hell he was, but it stank like rotten eggs. He coughed at the rank stench, waving his arms around in an attempt to disperse it. His boot hit something. There he was. Rufus was collapsed on the ground, twisted up in his coat, unresponsive. 


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey,” Evan floppily tapped at Rufus’ cheek with the back of his hand. “Hey, you gotta wake up. I have no idea how to get out of here.” 

Rufus’ eyes fluttered beneath his eyelids, and his hand twitched but otherwise remained motionless. 

“Of course,” Evan sighed frustratedly through his nose. But the fact was that seeing Rufus unconscious did a bit more than just irritate him. After his long drag of a sigh, he spoke more softly, squatting on his heels, his hands clasped under his chin. “You just had to go and hurt yourself, didn’t you?” 

He couldn’t help but feel a slight tinge of pity at the sight of someone defenseless and wounded. He’d been brave, to take the mako like he’d done, braver than Evan could be. Whatever he was doing this for couldn’t be for nothing. 

But, he also had a feeling of intense fear. The boom of Rufus’ gunshots were still ringing painfully in his ears. Rufus had maimed and killed for that same reason. These were men who hadn’t even stood trial or technically done anything wrong. There was no telling what Rufus would do if Evan ever proved to cross him or his goals, not that he had any reason to. He was just here to finish the job and be on his way.

He looked on at Rufus’ face, features similar to his own. The pale blonde eyelashes, the cut of his jawline. To Evan, it seemed fitting that Rufus, as opposed to him, was next in line to inherit this corporation. Whatever Shira did for the world, like his brother, also seemed to have mixed intentions. There was a benefit for one cause, as was the provision of electricity to power the Plate, but a long-term detriment to another. Everything came at a price. Would there ever be an ethical decision in a world as seemingly unfair as this one?

A cloud of gas that definitely seemed poisonous blasted to the left of him. Evan still couldn’t get over the stench. Noises came from all around, hissing, mechanical whirring, something that sounded like a curdled river running. He could make out something through the fog. From another pipeline, similar to the one they’d catapulted from, sludge purged forth in a brown-green slime reminiscent of excretion. It dropped into a reservoir that carried it away in a tide of mire. It was a concrete-lined river of filth. Evan curled his face up in disgust. 

This was the underbelly. The cost. It was obvious that this was the runoff of the factories. With a pit in his stomach, he assumed that this sludge probably wormed its way off the Plate and down, down, down. Raining filth upon the people living in the slums. Rufus knew. He knew about all of this and still did  _ nothing _ . What could have possibly have happened to have changed a man’s worldview to see something like this as...virtuous?

He thought back to Rufus’ words earlier that night. 

_ I think we’re more similar than you’d like to admit. _

Evan’s brow furrowed. 

  
_ No _ , he thought, his heart aching as it built a wall of resentment,  _ no we’re not. _


	9. Chapter 9

Rufus’ vision focused in and out of clarity, blinking to consciousness. He inhaled sharply. Something on his face felt warm. Gentle, like sunlight. He could see Evan hunched over him, a bright fluorescent light casting over his silhouette. 

“The time?!” He demanded as he sat up swiftly and rigidly. Instinctively he turned over his wrist, where he’d usually wear a heavy timepiece. 

“Relax,” Evan said, his hands fisted under his chin. He had a scowl on his face at Rufus’ scrambling. “It’s not dawn yet.” 

“And the bike?” Rufus said, standing to his feet and brushing himself off of dirt and debris. His elbows were irritated and bloodied by deep abrasions. 

Evan scoffed. “Thanks for checking in on me, bro. I’m fine thanks for asking, minus maybe the pants that I nearly shit myself in falling down into this hellhole.” Slop from the pipes continued to thump down in heavy splashes. “So, this is what you people call bettering society, huh?” 

Rufus stood staring at him in silence. His gaze was intense in a way that froze Evan’s insides, but Evan did his best not display weakness. He laughed it off.

“What? Did I push a button or something?”

“I asked about the bike. If you can’t do your job then I’ll finish it myself. And with me, the rest of the gil.” Rufus turned on his heels. 

“Oh yeah, big man, threaten me with the cash. Sure that’s something you’re used to.” Evan threw his hands out in exacerbation. He was tired and hungry and sore and … just plain angry right now. Hot blood was flowing through his veins at the sight of his surroundings and at Rufus’ haughty look, as if everything was expected to just go his way no matter what.

“Say, why did you even ask me to do this?  _ Me. _ ” He jabbed a thumb into his chest. “You could’ve had one of your Turk lackeys do this behind closed doors just the same. And probably for cheaper. I don’t know how your suits do things, but it seems pretty easy to get away with scandal. But  _ no _ , here you go calling me in the middle of the night, interrupting my television and my ramen and, and fuckin’ shooting people expecting me to just go along with it.” 

Rufus averted his gaze, his eyes emotionless and arms crossed.

“We haven’t talked in years, Rufus. What do you really want from me?”

“The bike,” Rufus deflected. “We need to get it back before it's unaccounted for.” 

“No,” Evan grabbed Rufus by the shoulder. “Don’t you dare try to play me like this. Tell me the truth. Was it because of him? Are you plotting something?”

Rufus grit his teeth.

“Is it him who’s making these decisions, to dump this shit down into the slums?” Evan pressed, staring furiously at his half-brother. 

“Wait...no, wait,” Evan breathed. “It’s because you wanted to see me isn’t it? You thought I’d join in on your little plan for vengeance against our old man just because we’re related. God.” 

Rufus spat out, “That’s an awful lot of assumption.” 

“Is it true?” 

Something about this conversation was stinging within Evan’s chest, it had his mind remembering a vague feeling of abandonment, pain... and family.

“Or is it just...is it more simple?”

Evan drew closer to him, his eyes softer and more understanding. He couldn’t help but see Rufus now as a grown-up version of a child who hadn’t gotten their way, with the cold glower on his face and his arms crossed against his chest. He was protecting himself.

“I understand that feeling Rufus. Of being lonely. Of not knowing what family was like. Of having expectations that were never met by the people who were meant to protect you when you were most vulnerable.” 

Rufus let out a short scornful laugh.

“Weakness. All of it.” 

“I want family too, Rufus. I want to believe that those relationships can have meaning.” 

“You know what, you were right,” Rufus tore from Evan’s hand on his shoulder, wading through the industrial dump’s fog. “It was all about the President. I want you to help me take him down.” 

Evan’s gaze lowered. 

“Found it,” Rufus retorted, then began lugging the motorbike upright. He groaned against its weight, obviously still not fully recovered from his encounter with the mako, and then straddled the seat. 

“Rufus,” he started, a pleading look on his face. 

Rufus looked back. It was the terrifying icy anger in his eyes again. 

Evan swallowed, paralyzed. 

Rufus’ next words came out pointed and commanding.

“If you insist on idle chat, then go ahead and sing yourself to sleep about dear old Daddy until they find you down here come morning. I already have what I need.” 


	10. Chapter 10

The two men rode in an unpleasant silence, the only noise being the rumble of the bike and wet sloshing of water against the rims. The runoff tunnels beneath the factory were a labyrinth - Evan would have never known how to navigate them on his own. Then again, he would have never gotten himself into this situation if it hadn’t been for Rufus either. 

Evan looked up. Water had been dripping intermittently onto his face. There were rusty manhole covers dotted with holes that let in light from the metropolis above, metal runged ladders, flickering orange-casting lights, all probably for maintenance purposes. Rufus clenched the handlebars, the muscles of his biceps straining. 

He suddenly accelerated in a plume of exhaust, a wave of muck spraying against Evan’s shoes and pants. 

“Hey! Watch it, jackass!” Evan felt the dirty water soaking down into his socks. These were one of the two pairs he owned, and the only ones without darned holes in them. “Great…”

Rufus said nothing as the bike lurched forward. Evan was forced to grab onto Rufus’ waist in the acceleration, only as a necessity. This was  _ his _ bike. Rufus better not do anything to fuck it up. He’d just got done with an expensive repair for the carburetor and after the fall they’d just had it would probably need another. Why the hell had he thought this was a good idea? This was  _ SHINRA _ , for God’s sake! 

Rufus flinched and let out a hiss of pain as the bike hit a pothole. He was probably still weak. 

Evan didn’t care anymore. 

In truth, he sort of just wanted to punch him, just  _ punch  _ him till he cried like the little baby he was. For just standing by as all those people were suffering. For having that stupid grimace on his face. For thinking he was some sort of hero when all he really did was terrorize and lay in wait and snake around. 

They drove until Rufus came to a stop at one of the metal runged ladders, the bike shuddering to a halt. 

Rufus just started walking, hurriedly, leaving Evan scrambling off the bike as it almost toppled over under his weight. He then began climbing the ladder. There was a platform at the top, and a large metal door with some sort of Shinra-looking security pad glowing next to it. All that fancy shit looked the same to Evan. 

“Hey,” Evan called. “HEY!” His voice echoed through the tunnel. Water dropped on his head, cold against his scalp, and he shook it out with an angry, annoyed grunt. 

Rufus kept climbing, his boots clanking against the metal.

“I still have the materia!” 

Rufus pretended not to hear him. Under normal circumstances, Evan was the one to regroup, to collectively keep a cool demeanor, but something about the way Rufus acted, just as icily but in a way that felt inherently  _ wrong _ was really, really pissing him off. Adrenaline surged through Evan’s viens. 

Evan rushed over in a huff, chased after Rufus on the ladder, grabbed a fist-full of his SOLDIER tunic, and with a fell swoop of his upper body strength, tossed Rufus to the ground. Rufus hit the floor with a grunt. Filthy runoff had splashed up onto his face, leaving his hair dripping with grime. 

Evan hopped from the ladder to demand to drive him out of the tunnel. To hell with the materia and the gil and this bitch-ass job. 

But before he could even approach Rufus, Rufus charged him full-force and tackled him by the legs. He wrapped him in a headlock, trapping Evan’s windpipe. Evan scrambled to attempt to elbow Rufus, grunting and struggling.

“Grr, ugh, get...get...off..me!” Evan clawed at Rufus’ arms, his nails digging into skin. 

He was much more skilled in combat that Evan was, that much was clear. Evan should have known, based on how coldly and skillfully he’d handled a weapon. Rufus could kill him.

Evan then did something that felt low, even for him. He used one of his clenched fists to punch over and over where the mako had been injected in the crook of Rufus’ arm. 

Rufus shrieked in pain, releasing Evan, grunting and gritting his teeth. He buckled over and lay in the filth of the tunnel in a fetal position on his side. 

“Hah, serves you right,” Evan stood above him, panting and rubbing at his neck. 

“You piece of SHIT!” Rufus roared. Evan could hear his throat was thick with emotion...tears. He buckled in on himself, moaning in pain. “Do you even know? Do you even know WHY I need that fucking materia?” 

Evan took a step back, in shock at the brash display of emotion. 

“I-I,” he braced. He wasn’t going to let Rufus throw a tantrum like this and make him feel guilty about it. “Well, I  _ tried _ to ask, but you had to go all tough, mystery man on me and keep your lips locked. So don’t go whining and crying about how much of a victim you are. 

“You know what, I think I could make a lot more than what you’d pay me selling this in the underground, kinda like how Genus did? There’s not a whole lot for me to lose here.” ” 

“Grrahhh!” Rufus grit his teeth and stood wobbly, his hand propped against the ladder rung. “Just give it to me!”

“Nah,” Evan said, taking the orb from his pocket and tossing and catching it in the air. “I’ve got better uses for it than you do.”

“It’s not for me! It’s not,” Rufus seethed. “It’s not for me or the President.” 

Evan kept tossing it in the air, as if it were a baseball. 

“Evan, Evan,  _ please _ .”

“If it has anything to do with Shinra, I’d say I’m doing the right thing by keeping it from you. Stuff like this shouldn’t be in your hands.”

“You don’t know him,” Rufus grabbed at his thigh where the dagger had been, but he was weaponless. It had slung out amidst some of the chaos. His fingers slipped over the sludge on the leather casing. “You don’t know him. The man I need that for. He’s not like me at all, Evan. Something awful is happening to him. It’s my fault. Please,” Rufus limped, his breathing labored. “He doesn’t deserve this. He was just doing his job. Nobody else...” Rufus swallowed. “Nobody else gives a shit about what happens to him.” 

Evan looked over, feeling that inconvenient twinge of pity again. 

“I think you need to ask yourself, Rufus,” Evan said, catching the materia and holding it firmly in his palm. “Who is this really about? Because here’s what I think. This is about you. And  _ your _ power. Or lack thereof.”

Evan, now fearless, approached him and looked Rufus in the eye. 

“Be honest with yourself. Is it really about what he could lose? Or is it what you are afraid of losing?” 

Rufus huffed, now actively listening, and tucked his muddy hair behind his ear. 

“I-” Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. “There’s just nothing. Nothing I can do about it. I’ve only learned that I need to take the first kill. I don’t know anything else.” 

_ I’m scared _ , Rufus heard his mind whispering intrusive thoughts.  _ It’s both. I’m scared of losing him, but I’m scared of losing the only thing that I know is a part of myself. No! No, if I admit that then it's all over.  _

Evan inhaled deeply, exhaling in a sigh. 

“Damn...” he put his hands on his hips and shook his head incredulously. “Maybe we are more similar than I thought.” 

He could see that child in Rufus again, the one that was scared and alone and who thought he didn’t deserve love. A callous, calculating front that only served to protect him from the fear that festered deep inside him. 

“Daddy issues, am I right?” Evan jested and then coughed. His throat still throbbed at where Rufus had restrained him. 

Rufus smirked quickly, a brief, but amused smile. Evan still secretly wondered if this was all a farce too, if Rufus was just manipulating him. 

“You know, Rufus. The reason I answered your call was because I wanted to see you.” 

Rufus looked up, his eyes unchanged. 

“Some stupid part of me thought that maybe, somewhere deep inside you was a good guy. A brother I’d like to get to know.” Evan scratched at his forearm as he continued.

“I’m not ready to forgive you for the way you stand by as the world burns in the name of Shinra. I don’t know if I ever will be.

“But, I want to dream that a man can change. That the hurt he’s built up inside, the emotions that he probably thinks only lead to him getting taken advantage of and getting hurt, everything that’s protected him from the world. That that can be burnt down and rebuilt. Kinda like those skyscrapers up there.”

Evan tossed him the materia and Rufus caught it in his palm. Rufus’ mouth was agape.

“Now, wouldn’t that be nice?” 


	11. Chapter 11

Rufus heard the motorbike kick to life as he held the heavy door open with his weak arm. He’d told Evan that it was easy enough to navigate his way out of the runoff tunnels if he just followed the flow of the water. He’d eventually find his way back to Sector 5 and go on with his life, the way he’d always lived it. Evan’d given him the materia, Rufus had given him the gil. That was that. 

Despite all that, Rufus had the nagging feeling that somehow he’d forgotten something. Evan had made it clear that, at least for now, he wanted nothing to do with him. He’d made Rufus delete his number in his phone and told him that if he ever needed help, to not track him down, to act like he didn’t even know he existed. 

Rufus complied. He understood. They’d never speak of this again. 

He turned around quickly to see Evan’s tail lights trailing further and further away. His chest lurched with an unwarranted anxiety. 

Would there ever come a time when he could truly accept those related by blood? And would he ever have a family, like what seemed to come so easily for some of his subordinate corporate workers? 

He’d seen the picture frames on their desks - holding daughters, smiling with sons, kissing wives. 

It had seemed so petty.

They’d ask for holidays off and leaves of absences for new children... a waste of money. It annoyed him, to be seemingly tethered by bonds, to have your freedom restrained, to have even more that this world could take from you. 

But now, with an undue unfurling of an emotion that he wasn’t quite familiar with, Rufus felt so very vulnerable. 

And so very alone. 

His boots clanked against the metal staircase, a back fire exit that was never used, climbing up and up until his thighs were shaking and his hand slid weakly against the railing. Just a little further. 

There it was. The top floor. 

_ Tseng _ . 

Rufus’ lungs burned with exertion as he slunk down the dark hallway, pinning himself to the wall in an attempt to be inconspicuous. The passage was illuminated just by soft lighting and the glisten of the black marble floor. The Shinra building always smelled the same; nothing rank or sulfuric or caked in sludge - a pleasant luxurious smell of tea tree and lemon sage. Everything hummed with the corporation’s electricity as the world slept and survived beyond these walls. He slid his employee ID card with a two-toned beep to enter his apartment. The door slid open and then closed. 

He didn’t even remove his filthy shoes as he rushed past the genkan, ripping the materia from his pocket and rushing into his bedroom. 

Tseng was sleeping in ragged breaths, a trashcan of what smelled like sick next to the bed, his body stripped of his clothing and bedding twisted up on the other side of the California king mattress. 

Rufus collapsed on the floor, heaving, a single laugh of relief escaping his lips. He’d made it. He’d done it. Everything was going to be okay now.

“Hey,” Rufus shook Tseng gently by his shoulder that wasn’t wrapped up in bloodied gauze and tape. “Hey, Turk.” 

Tseng moaned softly as his eyes opened narrowly. The Jenova-ridden mako had gone deeper, the green of it lambent in his irises. 

Rufus was frustrated about how much information had been kept from him regarding The Project. He’d overhead some of what Hojo had had to say about its potential uses, but that had only been because he’d eavesdropped, the words of Hojo and his father muffled through closed meeting doors. 

Tseng was so far away, probably floating, bobbing, helpless to the force of the lifestream. 

Rufus swallowed his anxiety. He held out the materia over Tseng’s body, the marble of it clenched tightly in his palm. 

He inhaled, summoning strength to cast magic. He had little left to give.

The blood seemed to ripple in his veins as the magic dispensed into the materia. It glowed weakly, like a firefly. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Rufus grimaced. 

Evan’s words echoed in his head.

_ This is about you. And your power. Or lack thereof. _

_ No,  _ Rufus thought, looking upon Tseng’s face. 

Even in his current state, Tseng was beautiful, regal, resolute. Rufus remembered when Tseng had first been assigned to Rufus. They’d been so young. Rufus (again) had imperiled Tseng’s life by stubbornly demanding to take the helicopter through a rough storm above the sea. The helicopter had been spiraling to its demise and Tseng had stripped his coat, commanding Rufus to take hold of him. He remembered the icy sea water as they’d plunged, how Tseng had swam one-armedly to cling to the Mako pipeline, the Junon shoreline where they’d laid in the sand breathlessly. They’d heard the distant boom of the helicopter, exploding as it made contact with the sea. 

Tseng had saved his life. 

Rufus remembered. 

Tseng’s eyes. The wrinkle of his face as he’d cast Rufus a rare and stoic smirk. The archaic and indirect way he spoke. The long, arduous nights Rufus spent in his office, Tseng knocking on his door holding sacks of takeout and trays of coffee. The single time Tseng had opened up to him before retiring to his dormitory, something about a SOLDIER and a mission and Banora...what was the guy’s name again? Zeke? Zack? 

_ No _ , Rufus asserted,  _ this isn’t about my power at all. In all of this, I’ve been nothing but powerless.  _

_ This is a favor that I have to return. A redemption for the sins he’s had to bear on my behalf. _

_ For a man I love _ . 

Magic seemed to flow more easily now, as if it had grown exponentially beneath his skin. The materia surged to life, strings of light, fluttering like feathers, sparkling as the particles of magic rained down on Tseng’s body. They entered through his skin, his mouth, urgent to heal. 

Rufus looked on, dumbfounded as the materia took its hold in a fuller force that he’d expected. 

Tseng seemed to sputter to life, gripping the sheets as he coughed up a bubbling blood-tinged greenish mucus, the spittle in the corners of his mouth. 

Rufus supported his back as he hauled Tseng to sit upright and held out the trash can under his chin. 

“Here, just let it out,” Rufus said urgently. “It has to purge.” 

Tseng swayed, his head hanging. He then gripped the edge of the trashcan and sicked into it. Rufus held Tseng’s hair away from his face. 

“Sir, look away,” Tseng said weakly, wiping at his mouth, his hands trembling. 

“No,” Rufus insisted. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Rufus stayed with Tseng until it seemed the poison expelled almost completely. He broke intermittently to dampen a washcloth for Tseng’s forehead but otherwise remained with him until Tseng relaxed back onto his bed. Tseng mumbled apologies after apologies, to which Rufus insisted on him shutting up. After he laid down in exhaustion, and Rufus explained to him that the materia would have him feeling better and better, Tseng’s fingers reached up to Rufus. They grazed something that felt foreign to Tseng’s touch. Leather and metal buttons. 

“Sir, what is this?” Tseng said, rubbing the clothing between his fingers. Rufus wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about until he looked down. Tseng inspected his fingertips. “You’re filthy. Are you alright?” 

It was Evan’s jacket, still tied up around his waist, crusted with mud and factory run-off. 

Rufus looked at it for a few seconds, his brow narrowing.

“It’s a hand-me-down from someone,” Rufus said nonchalantly, unwrapping it from his waist and then threading his arms into the sleeves. “What, you don’t think it’s my style?” He smirked. He wondered how many times Evan had done the same, assessing himself in the mirror, shaking loose the wrinkles.

“No Sir,” Tseng inspected Rufus, assessing him for injury, ever cautious and allocentric. He then closed his eyes, mumbling as the recovery expended the last of his energy. 

Rufus was blinded by the sun rising in the crack of his curtains. He raised a shielding hand to block it. Tseng grabbed hold of it, the sunlight warming on his hand.

“I think it suits you well.”

\---

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this journey if you've made it this far! Critique and feedback always welcome.
> 
> I imagine The Night Does Not Belong To God by Sleep Token playing at the end of this story, lol. https://youtu.be/FrbwVzgvl3E

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I'll try anything once](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728147) by [tiredvampire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiredvampire/pseuds/tiredvampire)




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